Homeward Bound

I’m on the Eurostar, heading back to London. It’s been a great few days but I’ll be glad to get home!

So, I don’t know what all my worrying about - it seems that the whole trip has passed without incident. The metro proved simple to use and I found my way back to the Gare de Nord with no problems and plenty of time for a final cafe creme and a very decadent tarte au fruits. Rhubarb cake to you and I.The carriage is relatively empty, though I am slightly intrigued by the two guys sitting just in front of me. They are American, and they are gay. I know they are American because of their accents. I know they are gay because of their magazines. Actually, that’s not strictly true - I’d guessed they were gay before I spotted the magazines, because they are immaculately dressed, and the American accents are just a tiny bit camp.

I am thinking that perhaps I should strike up conversation with them, since I have long been in search of a Gay Best Friend (GBF) in a Will and Grace kind of way, and they seem like excellent candidates. I know this, because one of them helped a woman lift her case up on to the baggage rack, and he was very gracious about it. They are married - I know this because of their wedding rings. OK, I’m making a bit of an assumption that they are married to each other, but imagine if they aren’t? Imagine if they are both leading normal lives with wives and families and have engineered a trip to Europe together. OR, imagine if they didn’t know each other before Paris. Imagine if it all started in Paris, This is unlikely, I know, since they are so obviously gay and so obviously a couple (I don’t know how I know this, they just ‘fit’ together… make up your own jokes if you must) but one can’t help coming up with these little scenarios. I’m a writer, don’t you know.